Entwining Mithril and Gold
by Artemisdesari
Summary: The weeks running up to the wedding seem to fly by in a flurry of fittings and last minute preparations. Fili frequently retires to his chambers in the evening with his head spinning, too full of information that he needs to keep straight and just can't. Soul Stones Part 12


The weeks running up to the wedding seem to fly by in a flurry of fittings and last minute preparations. Fili frequently retires to his chambers in the evening with his head spinning, too full of information that he needs to keep straight and just can't. There are two ways that dwarves tend to marry. The first is the most common, a private ceremony with only the parents of the couple present to hear the vows spoken and witness the exchange of jewels, weapons and beads. The second is a large, public ceremony performed by highest ranking dwarf of their community. Given that Fili is the heir to the throne that means that he _has_ to marry for everyone to see, which means the ceremony will take place in the great throne room and Thorin will lead them through it. He doesn't see Arja as much as he would like, though he gets to spend more time alone with her than Kili does with Tir, and he doesn't see her at all the day before the ceremony when the pair of them are taken to chambers deep inside the mountain to prepare.

Kili comes with him, as Tir goes with Arja since her closest family are still with a caravan in the south-east, and he is there to help Fili relax and prepare. He rubs scented oils into his brother's skin, hair and beard, and fills Fili's nervous silence with memories of their childhood as he waits for his brother to find his tongue. Fili isn't the sort to chatter on when he is uncomfortable or nervous. He goes silent and withdraws and Kili knows this, Kili knows to take the edge off the silence so that Fili can find his feet. It doesn't happen very often, and rarely publicly enough to cause any problems, but Fili is endlessly grateful for his brother at times like this. This quiet time with their closest family member is the last time that the couple have to change their mind, to decide that they are not ready or that they have made the wrong choice. Not that this is an option for Fili and Arja.

"Getting married, **undad**," Kili says as he eases a comb through Fili's hair.

"I almost can't believe it," Fili whispers. "If not for Durin-" he pauses but he knows that Kili is aware of his meaning. If not for Durin neither of them would be here. Neither of them would have had the chance to _court_ their One let alone marry them. Somewhere in Mahal's Halls Durin is probably crowing in delight. He doesn't want to think about what might have happened to Arja, or Tir, should events have unfolded as they originally did.

Nimble fingers weave the few braids that Fili will be permitted to wear. The braids he wears for the mastery of his swords and as heir to the throne of Erebor. The decorative braids in his moustache that are worn in memory of his father, and one of the only things that he remembers about his sire. Decorative braids, as a rule, are not supposed to be worn, but those in memory of family who have returned to stone are permitted. Braids and clasps in place Kili helps Fili into his tunic, a heavily embroidered blue affair that makes the colour of his eyes pop. As a rule Fili doesn't tend to wear blue, it looks good on him but it is very much a colour associated with his uncle and even before the quest Fili had wanted to prove himself his own person. As a prince of the line, however, he is expected to wear Durin's colours during events such as this. Thorin, Kili and his mother will also be wearing the colours, but he knows that it will not take the attention off him. For someone who should be accustomed to being the centre of attention, Fili hates it.

"Breathe," Kili reminds him, fussing with his belt.

He takes a deep breath, turning his eyes onto the small table that holds the pouches containing his marriage bead and gift of jewels. Beside them lies a dagger with a jewelled hilt, the blade fashioned by Kili and the hilt decorated using the skills and passion he discovered in Mahal's halls. It is a decorative piece, but even so the blade is sharp and well made. They are symbols, a symbol of faithfulness, of wealth and of protection. They have been exchanged since time forgotten between married couples and the one giving _has_ to have had some input, whether in the design, the making, or as a family heirloom.

"Sit," he orders Kili after a moment of contemplation.

"I can do my own braids," his brother argues. "I'm not completely incompetent."

"I need to do something with my hands," Fili replies. Kili stares at him seriously, then settles onto a stool and submits to Fili's need to be busy. Kili _is_ better at making sure his braids are neat and in place than he was when they arrived, life in Ered Luin was far more forgiving of Kili's impatience with his braids. In Erebor they need to be as perfectly presented as possible all the time. Even Fili, who was always careful of his appearance in Ered Luin, finds it a little bit stifling to always have eyes on him.

All too soon Dwalin is knocking on the door to escort them to the antechamber where Fili will wait to be summoned before Thorin so that he can marry the 'dam he has chosen. It seems like the last day has lasted for an eternity, that he has waited for decades to be permitted to take Arja as his bride. The walk, which is only marginally longer than the one he might usually make, seems to take too long. Fili wants this day to be over and not because he doesn't _want_ to marry Arja, he can't think of anything that he wants more, he just hates that he is going to have to put on a performance in front of the entire mountain. He would rather this be quick and private because as far as _he_ is concerned they are as good as married. It shines in their souls. It only needs to be formalised for everyone else.

"I think the entire mountain is out there," Kili comments as he peers out of the double doors.

"That isn't helpful," Fili hisses. His brother grins at him. "Wait until it's your turn, there'll be more of us by then." Kili pales.

"Maybe Tir and I should just run away," he replies. Fili's answering smile is shark like.

"If I have to do this, so do you," he says as the door opens.

His mother and Arja walk in, both wearing heavy dresses that flare around their feet and are embroidered heavily with the angular shapes that their people prefer. Arja is the only one in the room _not_ wearing blue. She is wearing a gown of rich red, a section of her normally tight braids unbound, and Fili doesn't think she has ever looked more beautiful. He can see his own nerves reflected in her dark eyes and he smiles at her warmly, the tension melts from her and she reaches her hands out to him. He grasps them in his and squeezes lightly.

"This is the last opportunity," his mother says formally, "tell me now if you have any doubts about binding your lives together. Once you are before the king there will be no turning back."

"I am certain," Arja replies before Fili can speak.

"I, too, am certain," Fili adds. The phrasing is as important as the question. His mother looks at them both closely, then nods and steps forward to press her forehead to first Fili and then Arja's.

"Go then," she smiles. "Go and be joined in the eyes of our people and our Maker."

Dwalin opens the doors fully and Fili and Arja walk towards the throne hand in hand. Dwarves come into marriages as equals, one does not arrive before the other, and so they walk together until they are before the throne. Kili and Dis follow just behind, bearing the cushions upon which the ceremonial gifts rest covered by a cloth. Thorin waits for them by the throne, the raven crown shining on his head and a sense of presence about him that Fili is certain is not just that of his uncle. Fili takes a deep breath, squeezes Arja's hand, and they bow briefly to Thorin as they halt. He greets them warmly, his smile a break with the usually stern face, then makes the traditional enquiry of who stands before him and why. As the ceremony continues the sense of warmth and presence continues to grow until Fili is absolutely certain that Mahal is watching and waiting for the right moment to make his approval known. They listen as Thorin explains the importance of their joining, the historical symbolism of the bead they will each wear for the rest of their lives (from the earliest days of the Seven Fathers when most of the precious gems and metals were still deep beneath the earth and in short supply), the importance of the blades they will exchange and of the jewellery that they have fashioned.

Fili's bead for Arja, when he is finally able to weave her thick hair into the marriage braid, has been made from a scrap of unworked mithril that Thorin managed to find in the forges. The pale shine of it makes the black diamond Mahal gave him all the more striking and it seems to hum and glow as he fastens it in place. Her bead for him, he notes, does the same and is the fire opal mounted in gold that she had been presented. The weapons she gives him are a pair of exsquisitely made throwing axes and Fili suspects that there is a story behind them because while they are stunning they also have some age to them. The necklace Fili has made for her is deceptively simple, although Arja prefers a simple piece, of pink opal surrounded by diamonds and set into a delicate gold mount. His hand shakes slightly as he clasps it around her neck, as hers shake when she slides a gold and ruby ring onto his finger. These are not pieces meant to symbolise rank or position, these are pieces that are supposed to come from the heart.

Which they certainly do.

"This bead is my faithfulness to you," Fili has to make sure he says it loudly enough to be heard, though he would rather say it quietly enough that only Arja can hear him. "May this blade protect you if ever I cannot be there." His mother still wears the dagger his father made for her at her hip, and it has been used more than once since his death. "These jewels are my wealth, all that I own is yours."

She repeats it back to him and they turn to face Thorin for the final blessing only to find that he is no longer before them and instead a dwarf with a fiery beard, neatly braided hair and ancient eyes stands in front of them. The hall is silent and when Fili turns to look everything and everyone is almost unnaturally still.

"Just for a moment," Mahal says. "We are between one second and the next for only a brief time. Just for long enough for me to tell you how proud I am of who you are becoming, Fili, and how pleased I am, Arja, that you have accepted him and decided to follow the calling of your heart." Large hands touch their heads, resting gently on their hair as warmth and contentment flows through them. "Happiness, health and love will be yours until the end of your days," He smiles.

Just like that he is gone, although the weight of his presence remains, and Thorin must sense something of it because his expression, and that of every dwarf Fili suspects, takes on the same amazed look Fili saw in the Halls the first time that Thorin really spoke to their Maker. Mahal's blessing is, unknowingly, echoed by Thorin and as he says the final word the great throne room erupts with the cheers of their gathered people. Fili and Arja turn to face them all, raising the hands they have linked together over their heads for a moment before Fili pulls hers to his lips for a brief kiss. He will have to wait to kiss her properly until they are somewhere more private, such public displays are frowned upon when there are other races nearby. Then they walk out together, followed by Thorin and the rest of their family, to lead the way to the great feast that has been assembled in celebration.

Fili feels like he could fly when he finally manages to sneak away so that he can kiss his new bride.

* * *

_**A.N: **__Butchered Khuzdul:_

_undad: Greatest brother_

_Well, after writing Thorin's chapter yesterday I realised that I really did want to write Fili's wedding and this is what my brain came up with. _


End file.
